Fred Camper

Koshashvili effectively captures turn-of-the-century ennui, but, more impressively, some of the feel of literary prose by intercutting characters in different locales, pausing the narrative for thoughtful close-ups that evoke interiority. The excellent excellent acting conveys the principals' emotional ambiguities.

Stylish color schemes make this pleasing to look at, though the uneven narrative is both a minus and a plus--in one of the best scenes, beggars do an impromptu celebratory dance in the salon.

Filmmakers Garrett Scott and Ian Olds offer a damning chronicle of failure and chaos.

Despite some amateurish moments, Pulido displays genuine visual intelligence, using repeated static angles to emphasize the blandness of the family's anonymous tract house and moving with the characters as they try to individualize themselves.

An engaged and knowing look at the underground world of improvised rap, concentrating on artists less interested in commercial success and cutting records than in the "spontaneous right now" of "nonconceptual rhyme."

Director Mark Bamford has a feel for the entanglements of daily life, and his lively editing rhythm holds the multiple stories together.

The video is heavy on actors and other showbiz types, and the self-centered Gurwitch doesn't distinguish between a factory worker laid off after decades on the job and an actor getting rejected during tryouts.

Misses a chance to use the Manhattan setting to add to his protagonist's displacement, instead treating the city as a bland backdrop.

Fun, lively, and a tad superficial.

Director Chad Friedrichs works around Jandek's never having revealed his identity by interpolating shots of the PO box and rocks on the beach with the talking heads of fans, critics, and journalists, and lots of Jandek's wistful, haunting music.

Engrossing.

Fedja van Huet gives a fascinating performance as two very different twin brothers.

The obviously authentic love these couples shared should settle the question for all but bigots.

The camera goes limp during the climactic emotional blowout--unimaginative and static compositions leave the characters yelling at each other in a vacuum.

Friendship is portrayed here in its finest form.

The troupe veterans interviewed, most in their 80s and 90s, are wonderfully passionate; the affecting ending shows them still working as dance teachers and archivists all over the world.

Darkly poetic study of psychological brutality.

Paid in Full isn't a complete success; still, it moves beyond many cliches to create an honest portrait of several Harlem drug kingpins on their way up and inevitably down.

Boyd brings no new insights to this drama of men in a confined space, a situation that's been the basis for many powerful war films.

Doesn't add up to much more than a series of pretty pictures, and Goldsworthy's gnomic statements about the "energy" he perceives in "the plants and the land" are never fully explored.

An entertaining product that presents a powerful artistic vision.

Shirin Neshat, best known for her video installations, makes her feature directing debut with this elegant, often moving story of four Iranian women trapped by their circumstances in the turmoil preceding the 1953 coup.

Some say that the revolt was initiated by black and Latino drag queens, a fact not presented here, but there are affecting moments.

The film's relaxed pace, unassuming tone, and respect for its characters all recall the films of Abbas Kiarostami, who provided the story idea, but director Ali Reza Raisian adds a slightly more dramatic and emotional edge.

Walsh’s directness gives the film an understated quality that may seem anachronistic today but has real cinematic integrity.

The astronauts playfully mug for the camera, and the footage is spectacular, from a fiery liftoff montage to familiar but lovely shots of the earth from space to the moon's mysterious gray surface. But it's telling that a description of the problems of defecating in zero gravity is more interesting than astronauts' trite musings on “out of this world” views, and the ahistorical editing is occasionally irritating.

Ken Hanes's witty script shows its origins in his stage play, with the repartee often a bit too thick and fast for the screen.

Directors Gerard Ungerman and Audrey Brohy don't provide much analysis, instead telling the familiar stories of the invasions of Afghanistan and Iraq.

Kaplan's decision to violate documentary principles by using songs to "narrate" some sections is simply irritating.

This 2005 masterpiece by Russian filmmaker Alexander Sokurov transforms the story of Emperor Hirohito at the close of World War II into a melancholy meditation on power and its loss.

The fragmented compositions isolate the characters, trapping them in walled-off worlds -- which makes the brief kiss between Otomo and the grandmother all the more touching.

The performances are convincing, and director Gene Rhee does a good job of outlining the messiness of human affections here, showing how we don't always know what we really want or how to get it.

Understated but affecting.

The film does offer a good deal of engaging dark humor.

While not particularly cohesive, this 2002 film has some nice moments of comedy and father-son poignancy.

De Niro sinks this crime drama with his vacant, inattentive performance as an affectionally challenged homicide detective.

Shafer (himself a former Playgirl centerfold) never quite manages the incisive social critique his story seems to require.

Occasionally lighthearted but always affecting cautionary tale.

The music Bjork wrote for the sound track is at least minimally accomplished, unlike Barney's staggeringly vacant direction.

Kar Kar's singing is wonderfully expressive, and an improvised song to his wife at her grave site demonstrates the emotional wellspring of his music.

Utterly fresh and beguiling.

I'm no boxing fan, but there's something admirable about fighter Johar Abu Lashin's love of his sport, chronicled in Duki Dror's tautly constructed 2002 documentary.

Julie-Marie Parmentier is fetching as the vulnerable younger sister, and the duo generate considerable erotic tension; unfortunately Denis' detached and indifferent camera never gets inside the story, its characters, or its milieu.

The most telling moments in this 2003 video documentary aren't the statements of the neo-Nazis, a tiny minority who get way too much screen time, but the lies and bigotries of the ordinary citizens.

This rarely screened, melancholy 1957 film, Yasujiro Ozu’s last in black and white, is one of his best.

A moving evocation of longing unfulfilled.

As masterful as Welles's filming is, what makes Touch of Evil a staggering masterpiece is the global quality of his style, which causes every image to echo almost every other in the film.

This film's extraordinary unity of style, theme, and plot is what sets it apart from the superficial historical epic. Behind all the color, movement, and elaborate decor of this "commercial" film lies an exceptionally taut structure.

The compositions and camera movement are both precise and elegant.